New Tides
by fuzzydream
Summary: Anna and Bates, one year after the opera concert night. Spoilers for Series 4.


**A/N:** I wrote this to indulge myself. It's happy and nice and what I wish for DA, though I doubt it'll happen. Who knows... maybe the beach scene we heard about will be something like this? :P Thanks so much for reading, I would love to know your thoughts about this as the mood here in fanfiction has been different lately. Hopefully you'll like it. :) Thanks Terrie for editing!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Downton Abbey.

* * *

**New Tides** by fuzzydream

* * *

Anna looked at the various flowers in front of her and pursed her lips, unsure of which one to choose. They were different from the roses she was so used to seeing at Downton. Wild flowers, several types of flowers. She loved them all. There was a soft breeze and the air was still chilly but she enjoyed it. She wasn't used to this yet – the constant ocean breeze on her face, the quiet motion of waves hitting the sand. Scarborough was enchanting her more with each passing day. She took a deep breath. They could use a bit of colour right now. She met the saleswoman's eyes and smiled.

"What can I do for you, Mrs Bates?" the older woman's tone was kind.

"I'll take the yellow daisies, Mrs Dean," Anna said. "They do say daisies are the friendliest flowers."

"And they really are," Mrs Dean agreed. "I've heard you'll be opening soon. We're looking forward to that. The hotel looks far better than it ever did with you there."

Anna laughed softly as she paid her. "Thank you. Well, in a few weeks, we hope to open it. Before summer, definitely."

The woman smiled encouragingly. "I'm sure you will. Summer will be here in no time, though. Can you believe tomorrow will be April already?"

"Hard to believe indeed," Anna said, taking the daisies and smiling. "Thank you, Mrs Dean."

"Have a good day, Mrs Bates," Mrs Dean said as Anna turned to walk away.

She sniffed the daisies and thought of how nice they'd look in the reception area before replaying the conversation she just had. Mrs Dean was a very nice lady, who lived just a few houses from their hotel – their own precious, not so little hotel. They had only moved there two months ago, and as winter was gone and spring took its place, Anna found herself missing Downton less and less every day. Now, however, as she walked slowly, breathing in the fine afternoon air, thinking of all her wonderful plans for the day, a distinct fact struck in her mind.

Today was the last day of March.

Perhaps in the hurry of the past weeks – months, even – she had forgotten to look at the calendar. The days kept them busy with the renovations in the hotel, and the nights were always spent in the usual bliss with her husband – busy as they wanted, reading to each other, falling asleep early or perhaps not falling asleep at all, with far more interesting thoughts in their minds. She supposed it was easy to not care about dates and days of the week. Their time was for themselves alone, for the first time in their lives. Their pace was theirs alone, for a reason they chose. They slept in and shared breakfast together every day, sometimes even in bed; they took walks and laughed and there was no waiting for the dressing gong, no mending that wasn't of their own clothes. It was easy to fall into this routine. So easy that the days went past them far quicker than they used to. So fast that she had not realised today was the one year anniversary – and not one to celebrate at all.

One year since the opera concert. One year since their lives changed completely.

Her breath caught in her throat as she realised the implication and her steps stopped. She took a deep breath, determined not to cry. She could smell the daisies. For a moment, she thought she would break into tears, but she composed herself before that could happen. It was over. It was in the past, and it was just a memory. A memory she wasn't keen on thinking about today. They had more reasons to make today better – she had so many reasons to make today such a better day. Last year hadn't been how she thought it would be. Her expectations for 1923 weren't so big – she just thought she could trust it to be better than the previous year. And so far it had graced her far more than she thought was possible.

The daisies were impossibly yellow against the sun, and Anna pursed her lips and stared ahead – she was just a few feet from the hotel. Rosemead Hotel. John. Home. She managed a smile.

So much happened last year, and she wasn't quite sure if she would be here now if it wasn't for her decision to go to the kitchen to get something for a headache. With a shake of her head, she decided not to dwell on it. After everything John did for her – his patience, his love, his healing – he had been the one to suggest it. That they should leave. Leave Downton Abbey in the past and start somewhere new, just the two of them, as they had planned to so many years ago. It was time.

Downton Abbey would always hold good memories for her – it was where she grew up, where she fell in love. And even through the bad times, she held no grudge toward the place. It had been her home for so many years, but that wasn't the case anymore. She had been sceptical about coming to Scarborough to see one or two hotels, she was still not completely sure when they bought Rosemead – it was bigger than they had originally wanted, but it came with a full set of employees and even though some rooms could use some renovations, it was in a good state. They had their own private cottage too – bigger than the one they had in Downton, and for that Anna was glad. Still, it was only when they arrived, two months ago, that she realised the tension she had been carrying with her at the Abbey. It was amazing how she instantly felt at home here – how relieved she was here, how relaxed she felt now. To wake up to loving kisses, to open the windows and to see the mist from the sea, to discuss decorating with her husband, to organize their own home. To make love in the middle of the afternoon, to feel his arms around her and his kisses against her shoulder blades as they enjoyed a lazy day on their own.

John had made her happier than she ever could imagine she would be several times in her life, but she was sure she had never been as happy as she was now, since they moved to Scarborough.

It made sense now, however – how John had showered her with kisses and a full breakfast in bed this morning, punctuated by him distracting her to the point where he got to their own hotel late for a quick meeting with the manager they inherited from the previous owner. He, her husband, of course knew what today represented. And he had made sure to distract her all day to make sure she wouldn't realise it.

Her endearing husband couldn't delay the inevitable, but it warmed her heart that he would do this when he probably was suffering too. It was hard to believe, sometimes, that they were past this – that he still loved her, and understood her better than anyone. One look at John and she knew everything was fine. Gone were the restless nights by his side, gone was the uncertainty of the future. They had the here and the now, and it had never been brighter, especially today. Today, despite its frightful anniversary, she felt hopeful and happy. And now, what she wanted the most was to see John.

She opened the hotel door and walked towards the big desk in the corner – the reception had been the first thing in the hotel that they got ready, and despite it not being used right now she longed to make it look comfortable. She put the daisies inside the empty vase and smiled. Now they only needed a bit of water.

She laid her hat on the desk, along with her bag, and took the vase, leaving for the kitchen. Her steps were unhurried, and she could hear voices and banging noises from upstairs – no doubt they were still having trouble with the furniture. Sighing softly, she opened the kitchen door and found Betsy, one of the maids, by the sink. A local girl in her mid-twenties, Anna had to admit she was her salvation at the hotel. She and the other maid, Janet, who was also her sister, helped to get them settled and organized, especially lately, when Anna was busy with errands in the village. Betsy was very responsible and in a way she reminded Anna of her younger self.

"Hello, Mrs Bates," she said jovially with a smile. Anna fought the urge to giggle – she still wasn't used to being called Mrs Bates by everyone. "I was just finishing here. I hope you don't mind, but I told Janet she could go home early. There wasn't much for her to do anyway."

"Oh, it's no problem, Betsy. I'm afraid it's going to be like this until we reopen. Let's hope that will happen in a few weeks only," Anna said whilst putting some water in the vase. "I'm sorry I wasn't around to help this afternoon."

"It's all right. It's not as if there's too much work," Betsy said dismissively. "Did you get everything you needed done, Mrs Bates? Mr Bates was worried you were taking so long."

Anna smiled, albeit sadly. "Mr Bates worries too much, Betsy. You know what? You should go home soon too. Have fun while the sun is still out. Why don't you go see a film with that lad you were talking about last week?"

"I haven't seen him in a while. I shouldn't have told him I liked him. I don't think he ever fancied me," Betsy said with an exaggerated sigh. Anna smirked. "I will never find a husband, Mrs Bates."

"Oh, Betsy, don't be defeatist. I hadn't even met Mr Bates yet, when I was your age," Anna touched the girl's arm softly. "Men are strange creatures. They run a mile if you court them. Don't ask Mr Bates, though, he'll never admit it," they laughed. "Just give it some time and be patient with men."

"Thank you, Mrs Bates," Betsy smiled.

"Just saying the truth. Now off you go," Anna said brightly. "I should go tell Mr Bates it's time to rest too."

She took the vase and made her way back to the reception area. As she opened the door, she was happy to see John by the entrance, locking up. She bit back a smile and walked towards the desk, her steps making herself known to her husband. She met his eyes and smiled.

"Anna," he breathed. She saw relief in his eyes. "Hello."

"Hello, you," Anna said in a light tone as she arranged the flowers. "How has your afternoon been?"

He walked towards her slowly, the thump of his cane against the carpeted floor warming her heart. "Very productive. I'd show you some of the work but we left it in a bit of a mess," he chuckled, but turned serious after a second. "You were gone for a while."

"Some errands take time, John," she said patiently as he slipped his hands around her waist and she settled her back against his chest. His lips brushed her temple. "I bought these from Mrs Dean. To light up the room a bit."

"They are nice but you know my opinion on this matter," he said softly. She rested her hands on top of his. "You light up any room better than any flower out there."

Anna couldn't help but giggle. "You sweet talker. You know flattery will get you everywhere."

She could hear the smirk in his voice. "Only for you, Mrs Bates," she ran her fingers over his forearms, uncovered as he had rolled up his sleeves, and turned in his arms. He settled his hands on her lower back. "So what shall we do now? Do you want some tea?"

Anna shook her head. "Not really," she pursed her lips, deep in thought. She felt a bit nervous, for some silly reason. "We could take a walk, on the beach. What do you think? It's a bit chilly but pleasant, nonetheless. If your leg isn't bothering you, of course."

"Not at all. Your wish is my command," he winked at her before leaning down to kiss her lips languidly. She savoured the taste of him, the feeling of his warm lips covering hers. The taste of home. She was smiling when he pulled away. "I'll go get my coat."

Five minutes later, they were strolling side by side, hands clasped together between their bodies, as the sun set in the distance. It was quite pleasant, really, and surprising that they alone in the beach now. Their hotel wasn't far from the castle, but still secluded enough from the village that they still had a lot of peace and quiet. John was in a talkative mood – almost too talkative. Anna listened with interest, nonetheless. A letter for her, from Mrs Hughes, arrived while she had been gone. He had forgotten to mention it. They were expecting someone to fix their telephone next week – it was quite amazing that they would have their own telephone. John wanted to stop by the book shop tomorrow. Perhaps she would like to go with him.

"Maybe we could go out tonight," he suggested, as Anna's eyes settled in watching the waves. "Do something different."

She smiled. She knew exactly what he meant with that. A sigh escaped her lips.

"John. I know what today is."

He was silent. They kept walking, slowly. She unclasped her hand from his only to lace their fingers together.

"I'd rather have a quiet, normal evening with you. In our home," she spoke after a moment, "than trying to keep my mind off it by going somewhere else. My memories were here yesterday and will be here tomorrow. Today makes no real difference."

"I'm sorry," his tone was quiet – too quiet, perhaps. Anna stopped walking to face him.

"There is nothing to be sorry for. I know you were trying to make it easy for me," she smiled and brought her hand to caress his cheek. "Nothing makes me happier than the life we have now, here. And I want it exactly that way today," she let out a shaky breath. "If anything, I thought we could perhaps make today about something else, altogether."

He furrowed his eyebrows. "What?"

She let go of him to clasp her hands together in a nervous motion.

"Well," Anna took a deep breath. "I went to see a doctor today. That's why I took longer than normal," she explained, meeting his eyes. She could see a flicker of hope in them. "I'm pregnant."

In a fraction of a second, John's mouth opened and closed twice, and Anna was sure time had never passed by so slowly until she felt his lips against hers, surprising but still as inviting as ever. It was quick and almost desperate. His hands were on her cheeks , drawing her closer and caressing her ever so softly. His eyes were searching when he pulled away.

"But… how? After all these years?" was his first question.

Anna smirked. "How do you think?"

He let out an incredulous laugh before kissing her again, slower and softer than before. He was smiling, wider than she had ever seen before, and she let out a laugh too, tears prickling at her eyes, as it dawned on her that they were going to be parents. That they were having a baby.

"I take it that you're happy, then?" she managed to ask.

John nodded. "Yes, of course. And everything is all right? With you and… and the baby?"

"Yes, everything's perfect. The baby should arrive in October," Anna informed him. "I know it's probably not the best time, considering summer is just around the corner, I suppose, but I'm sure I'll be able to work just fine."

"It's the best time, Anna," there was raw sincerity in his voice. "It's perfect."

And he kissed her again, before they resumed their walking. Slowly, tentatively, plans were made. They should be glad they had a bigger house here in Scarborough, to accommodate a baby. Anna could already imagine many walks on the beach, holding a baby boy or a baby girl – who would grow up listening to the crashing waves and the smell of the sea. With their hotel, their own living, their own hours. Lazy days as a family, reading to their child, sharing stories with them. A much welcomed, long awaited, nearly forgotten dream – about to become reality.

And that night, with kisses on her bare shoulder blades, her naked body pressed against her husband's and his hoarse voice against her ears, Anna not once thought of the past; there was too much to look forward to in the future for that. The reopening of the hotel, the new life growing inside her, the prospect of many happy Christmases and birthdays and the rest of their lives in this new town that was already their home. That night, secure in her husband's arms, she dreamt of soft baby laughter, coloured daisies and the peace and quiet of the waves against the shore.

Tomorrow was a mystery she couldn't wait to figure out.


End file.
